The Return(42)

“You two about done?” he asked.

I thought about it, wondering what if anything I’d learned, or how much of it was even real.

“Yes,” I said, “I think we’re through.”

“I warned you, he can wander a bit when he talks,” Jerrold admitted. “Did you get the answers you needed?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “He said my grandfather was going to visit Helen. And he mentioned something about a girl inside, but I have no idea what he was talking about.”

“I think I might have part of the answer to that.”

“What part?”

“The girl inside,” Jerrold said. “He was talking about Callie. She and your grandfather were pretty close.”

*



Claude was still at the register when I reentered the store. There were a handful of customers in line and I waited until he finished before approaching.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Still trying to figure it out,” I said. “Do you know when Callie will be working again?”

“She’s here now,” Claude answered. “But she’s on break. She should be back in a few minutes.”

Which explains why I hadn’t noticed her earlier.

“Do you know where she is?”

“If she’s not feeding the cat, she usually eats at the picnic table down by the dock,” Claude said.

“Thanks,” I said, pushing back out the door again. Figuring it would be easier to talk while she wasn’t on the clock, I rounded the side of the store, to a path that led toward the creek. I knew there was not only a picnic table there, but also some gas pumps near the water’s edge where boats could fill their tanks. I’d been there with my grandfather numerous times.

The path wound through some trees and shrubbery, but when the view finally cleared, I saw Callie sitting at the table. As I crossed the grass, I noted the basic lunch she’d clearly brought from home. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich, container of milk, and an apple—most of it nearly finished—in a brown bag. Hearing me approach, she glanced in my direction, then back to the creek again.

“Callie?” I asked when I was close. “Claude told me that I might find you here.”

She turned her attention back to me, her expression wary. I wondered why she wasn’t in school, and noticed another bruise on her arm, close to the one I’d seen when she’d walked past my house. Instead of speaking, she took another bite of her sandwich, nearly finishing it. Remembering her general wariness, I stopped just short of the table, not wanting to crowd her. “I was hoping to speak with you about my grandfather,” I said. “I heard that you helped him harvest the honey last summer.”

“Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.

Her comment caught me off guard. “I’m not implying that you did. I’m just trying to figure out why he went to South Carolina.”

“Why would you think I know anything about that?”

“I was told that the two of you were close.”

Standing from the table, she shoved the last of her sandwich into her mouth and followed it with a final gulp of milk before stuffing the remains of her lunch into the bag. “I really can’t talk right now. I have to get back to work and I can’t be late.”

“I understand,” I said. “And I’m not trying to get you in trouble. Like I said, I’m just trying to figure out what happened to my grandfather.”

“I don’t know anything,” she repeated.

“Did you help him harvest the honey?”

“He paid me,” she said, color rising like a stain in her pale cheeks. “I didn’t steal any, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t steal anything.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. Why didn’t you tell me that you knew him as well as you did?”

“I don’t know you or anything about you.”

“You knew I was related to him.”

“So?”

“Callie—”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” she cried again, cutting me off. “I was walking by and he saw me and he asked if I wanted to help him with the honey, so I did. It only took a couple of days and after that, I put the labels on and stacked them on the shelves. Then he paid me. That’s it.”

I tried to imagine my grandfather asking her on a whim for help with the harvest, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t. And based on the conversations we’d had to this point, I couldn’t imagine her agreeing to such a thing, either. At the same time, there was some truth there; she had, by her own admission, helped him harvest the honey. What, I wondered, was she not telling me?

“Did he ever mention that he was going to visit Helen?”

Her eyes suddenly widened and for the first time, I thought I saw a flash of actual fear. As quickly as it came, however, it vanished with an angry shake of her head. “I’m sorry about your grandfather, okay? He was a nice old man. And I was happy to help him with the honey. But I don’t know anything about why he went to South Carolina, and I’d appreciate it if you just left me alone.”

I said nothing. She lifted her chin defiantly, before finally turning around and heading back toward the store. On her way, she tossed the remains of her lunch into a garbage can without breaking stride.